


Pick Me Ups And More

by Tina0609



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Angst, Bed and Breakfast, Christmas, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Ireland, London, Lovers, Pick me up, Theatre, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2020-03-07 08:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18869503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tina0609/pseuds/Tina0609
Summary: Dev is in a relationship with Tom. When she can't make it to Christmas Dinner with his family, she's in for a surprise.





	1. Busy Times and Christmas Miracles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thewritingkoala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/gifts).



> This is a story, I've written for thewritingkoala when she needed a hug and some love and a little time to relax. There are two chapters so far, we'll see, if there'll be more.

I’m a patient person. I really am. I’m also convinced that I can actually handle stressful situations really well. I’m used to it, really. I’m also kind and open. I have to be, running a small but well loved hotel in rural Ireland while simultaneously working as an author.

I can do calm, patient, and collected.

Well, at least I’ve always thought I can. The past 24 hours proved me wrong.

The plan was to spend the holidays with my boyfriend. He would host his first Christmas dinner for his family and I planned to help. We don’t see each other that often – me having a small business and him being the successful actor that he is. But we try to make long-distance work. Sometimes, he comes to Ireland once or twice a month. Sometimes, I come to London, mostly trying to combine it with work just to spend more than a weekend with him.

That’s actually how we met. I did a reading about one and a half years ago at a charity project for children in the hospital, and Tom was there for the same reason, acting for and visiting the small children there.

I was immediately smitten (of course), and he was as well. At least, that’s what he always tells me, that stupid charmer.

The stupid charmer who’s currently cross with me. Mad at me. Furious. Not that I actually know, because I haven’t heard from him since yesterday.

Which brings me to the fact that I’m actually, maybe, eventually not as calm, patient, and collected as I always thought.

It all started with Tom wanting to host Christmas dinner at his new house for the first time. I wanted to help (and actually spend Christmas with him, of course). I wanted to get there on the 23rd – yesterday – and stay until the 27th, with us going back to Ireland together for New Year’s Eve.

I mean , yes, the hotel was supposed to be full, but my brother Michael and his wife – my best friend – Michelle are usually able to handle everything with the staff that’s there to help. The manager, night manager, cooks and cleaning ladies.

Through some sort of twisted Christmas nightmare though, our staff went out together and all managed to eat something that gave them food poisoning.

And now, we have a full house while the three people not sick – me, Michael, and Michelle – manage the tasks of usually nine. Cooking, cleaning, reception and being there for the guests.

Which – you probably guessed – means I can’t travel to Hampshire and spend Christmas with my boyfriend. I left Tom hanging, because I can’t leave my hotel and family hanging.

“Dev?” my brother calls from the hallway and knocks on the door of the office, where I’m currently staring at my phone, willing it to ring and for Tom to call me back.

“Coming!” I yell back, a little louder and probably a bit more annoyed than I actually mean.

Tom’s been fine yesterday. Too fine. I knew he’d be mad at me. Yesterday, he got all quiet, but told me it would be okay. He would join me on the 27th. But where’s the fun in that? I’ll probably still be busy then.

And now, he won’t answer his phone. That’s okay, it’s Christmas Eve and he’s busy. But he also doesn’t call me back.

Damn. He’s mad.

* * *

I’m done. I don’t want to anymore. I’m sitting on the chair in the lobby, trying to be a good night manager. But I’m so tired. Pouring my fifth cup of coffee, I stare at my phone that still doesn’t ring.

I scoff. Tom definitely had more fun playing the night manager. Who would think that it’s actually not that exciting? We can’t all be stars and spies now, can we?

I know there’s a smile on my face when I think of him. It’s automatic. I know, I know. It sounds cheesy and horrible, but I can’t help it.

He uses to say he’s going to quit his acting job, because, “Darling, I’ve played a night manager before, how hard can it actually be?”.

Well, Mr Hiddleston, it’s effing boring without gun dealers or drunks to tend to.

Also, he shouldn’t quit acting. Not only would he be unhappy, but also I’d be killed by a group of angry fangirls.

I admit, I shriek a little when I see lights outside the hotel. It’s a small town, and there aren’t any guests arriving at – I look at my watch – 1.30 a.m. on a Tuesday morning. Especially not on Christmas day.

Maybe I should wake up Michael? No. He was awake for almost 24 hours, I should let him sleep. And if I get killed by a serial killer, at least the town has something to talk about.

A few minutes later, there’s a shadow outside and then suddenly – or not so suddenly, because I saw the lights – the door to the hotel slides open and I let out another shriek.

“Hi, Darling.”

That can’t be. He’s supposed to be mad at me. Damn, he’s not even supposed to be here. Oh, god, did he come here to break up with me in person? Would he call me ‘darling’ then?

“Dev?”

“Tom?” I mean, I need to be sure.

“Well, yes.”

And then he’s striding down the hall and up to the reception, where I’m still sitting, a little dumbfounded to be honest.

He looks good. Snuggled up in a fluffy jacket, and a scarf. I bet he smells good, too.

Tom stops at the desk, leaning against it with his arms on the top. “Hello, again. It’s not quite the greeting I’ve expected, if I’m honest.”

I’m still not standing up. This can’t be real. “Are you here to break up with me?”

Tom stares at me, and then chuckles. I’m not joking, though. “I’m here to help, Dev.”

“But… but…”

“No but. Can you properly say hello to me now? Please? I’ve missed you.”

I’m out of my chair in seconds – Yes, I know I could have been in his arms for some minutes now – and round the desk to hug him.

Tom holds me tight and scoops me up. “I love you,” he mumbles.

“I love you too, but…”

“No,” he mumbles into my neck.

“Your dinner,” I mumble back, but I’m not sure, if I really care.

“I bought the food, left it at the house and told my family they could spend their Christmas there,” he chuckles and shakes my body with his giggles.

“You’re crazy.”

“I just want to spend my time with you. And I want to help.”

Tom lets go of me, but then leans in instead to give me a kiss. God, I missed him.

“I told you before, you can’t actually be a night manager.”

Tom laughs. “I know. But I can clean and tidy, and I can help and entertain the guests. And you maybe.”

“I like to be entertained.”

“I know.”

Tom winks and then picks up his little suitcase, before he takes my hand and leads me towards the office. “Prepare to be entertained a lot.”


	2. Pick Me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After actions out of her control, Dev visits her boyfriend Tom in London.

„It’s horrible,“ Dev sighs on the other end of the phone, making Tom frown. “Some stupid people do something horrible, and suddenly everyone has to suffer.” 

His girlfriend sounds said, and if Tom is honest, also a little afraid. It hasn’t been a good month for her, her brother, and their little Bed and Breakfast in Ireland.

Some idiots thought their beliefs are more important than the religion of others, attacking churches over the Easter holidays. Life hasn’t been the same since then in Ireland though the people do stand together, and Tom knows that especially the businesses depending on tourists are suffering right now.

Just as Dev, her brother Michael, and his wife Michelle. Reservations are cancelled, and they all can be happy they all have jobs that don’t involve the hotel industry.

Still, she’s too stubborn to let him help. Even when he went to her during ‘the Christmas from hell’ as they named it, he was only allowed to do as much as managing the phone and serving food. He loves her stubbornness though, just as he loves her.

It doesn’t change the fact that he wants to help, though.

“Do you need me there? Do you need support?” He knows that Dev knows ‘support’ means money. But he’d never ask directly, and she’d never accept anyway.

“No. You have your play. You need to be there,” is the expected answer.

“I could let my understudy go in.”

“Yeah. And then I could have an angry mob of fangirls run after me and kill me.”

He tries to hold in his snickers, he really does. He loves his fans, but Tom has to admit that Dev is right in some aspects.

“Okay. I want you alive, obviously.”

Dev snorts. “Well, thank you.”

He rolls his eyes, but he knows they’re both just joking around. “Let me finish, woman.”

“Sorry.”

“I want you alive, obviously. So. Come to me, please. Watch the show, have a good time. Let me make you have a good time.”

“Tom…”

“No. I mean it. You can take the time off. And the flight is on me. I want to see you, I want to hug you, and I absolutely need to kiss you.” He stops for a moment. “Please. After Easter, I need to know that you’re okay.”

There’s silence on Dev’s end. Then shuffling and maybe a bit of sniffing. “Okay.”

* * *

Tom shifts from one foot to the other. It’s busy at Heathrow airport, but he’s disguised himself pretty well. A cap hides his curls, sunglasses his eyes, and he changed his trusty coat in order to appear less noticeable.

And if not, who cares? The plane from Dublin his girlfriend was on has just landed, he hasn’t seen her in two months, and it’s his rare late morning off, before he needs to be on stage in the evening again.

If someone snaps a picture of him hugging the hell out of Dev, then so be it. He’ll frame it.

Before Tom can think about it some more, the first people stream out into the Arrivals area. He holds the sheet reading “Devy” a little tighter and shifts again. Any moment now.

And then there she is. Before he can really think about just how tired she looks – and worried – Dev spots him, gasps and then there’s a body crashing into him.

The paper is crumpled when they hug, holding each other close. Tom inhales deeply. She still smells like vanilla, peaches, and cookies. Like her. Like home. She’s warm, and she’s breathing rapidly against his neck, her arms wrapped tightly around Tom’s waist.

“I’ve missed you.”

Tom chuckles. “You too. Are you okay?”

“I am now.”

He’s too.

* * *

There’s an almost timid knock on his dressing room door. One he almost can’t hear it amidst the laughter in the room.

But Tom knows who’s on the other side and rushes to open it instead of the usual shout of “Come in!” he’s perfected during the run of the play.

“Hush, act professional,” Charlie mock whispers behind him, and Tom rolls his eyes before he swings the door open.

On the other side stands Dev, beautiful in her blue and white striped dress, her brown hair down and her brown eyes shining, just a bit of make-up helping to bring out the colour in them.

She also looks a bit unsure looking up at him and then leaning around him, waving at his co-stars. “Hi.”

“Hello,” echoes from Charlie, his wife, Zawe, and her boyfriend in the room. Stage door will have to wait for a bit tonight. There are (girl)friends needing to catch up.

Dev has ‘met’ them during a Skype call and then some during the run of the play.

“Have you noticed your boyfriend throwing food at the audience?” Charlie mocks. He deserves it, though. Tom’s not sure there won’t be a piece of melon offered on EBay later that night. ‘Chewed on by Tom Hiddleston’ maybe.

Dev giggles and smiles, and Tom can’t even be mad at either of them. Not even at Zawe, who joins in with an, “It was his best acting.”

“Don’t listen to them,” Tom growls playfully as he wraps Dev in his arms and kisses the top of her head.

“I’d never,” she winks. “You are the best actor to ever act. You’re just not good at eating.”

“Shut up.”

“I love you, though.”

“I love you too.”

Dev smiles up at him. She’s smiled all day, actually, and Tom is confident she will continue to do so in the upcoming two weeks she’s staying with him in London.

He leans down, ignoring the other people in the room. Their lips meet, her lipstick tasting like raspberries. She moans into him – just a little – and presses closer against him.

They sigh simultaneously, making Charlie behind them cackle.

Tom leans down to whisper in her ear. “I’ll never live this down if we give them more of a show.”

Dev grins and winks. “Later. Promise.”


	3. Make Love Your Goal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After last year's Christmas, what will this year bring for Dev and Tom?

„I’m so sorry, Tom.“

Dev can hear Tom's sigh all the way from England. And it’s not because of the call, but because it’s so loud, it’d reach her little flat in her bed and breakfast without the help from her phone.

“Please, don’t say anything more.”

He sounds so defeated that Dev almost loses it herself. She’s already cried enough over this. But she can’t change it.

“Let me explain. Please.”

“What’s there to explain, Dev?” It’s less defeated and more angry. She needs to be careful now. She doesn’t want to fight. “Last year I understood it perfectly. And I think I made it very clear that I support you in every way that I can. Every way that you let me. Without asking even.”

He’s right. Of course he is. She had to cancel their first time hosting Christmas at his house. He left his family, and he flew out to help her when she had to work. She’s promised it’d be better this year.

And she’s made it almost all the way to Christmas. Again. But their cook had personal problems. He left. Again, they're almost fully booked – something she’s happy about as they’re finally looking forwards again, having more bookings as tourists start coming back to Ireland – and nobody’s there to care for the guests.

She's also explained this to Tom. Yesterday, shortly before he cut her off, told her she couldn’t be serious and then hung up. Only to call her minutes later to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“I know...”

“And then you tell me, you won’t be able to make it here. The second year in a row.”

“I know.”

“And I know about being busy. Hell, I know about not being able to make it. I've spent almost a year in a play. I just made it home from New York. I haven’t seen you in six months.”

“Tom, I know that. If you just let me...”

But he doesn’t just let her. Dev loves her boyfriend, she really does. She’s also really sorry. But damn, this stubborn ass can surely get on her nerves when he wants to. Yes, ‘when’.

“Do you even want to see me?”

“Do I what now? Of course, I do, you arse.”

“Well, then come and see me or just don’t. But that’ll be the last of it.”

And then he hangs up, leaving Dev staring at her phone.

* * *

Tom’s had days from hell. That what it feels like in the afternoon of the 25th December with nieces running through his backyard, his sisters chatting away in the kitchen and his mum shooting him looks from across the room.

Yes, he’s been grumpy all day. Ever since yesterday night actually. It’s not a long flight from Ireland. It’s not like he’s asking Dev to travel for twelve hours just to see him, right? Right.

He knows she’s incredible busy. He also knows that she didn’t just go and let a cook go just to anger him and leaving him miserable and alone on Christmas day. Well. Not entirely alone. But definitely miserable.

So what if he’s been sulking ever since this morning when his family arrived, reacting more than shocked when they learnt that Dev couldn’t make it, again? He’s got every right. He doesn’t really have a solution either. Or actually, he has. She can go ‘fuck it’, and come over anyway.

At least the turkey in the oven seems to be doing great.

* * *

Dev hasn't slept in – she checks her watch – 36 hours. She feels like she’s between some kind of floating and sleepwalking. Which isn’t the best when you arrive at an international airport, and still have to make your way all the way south to reach your boyfriend's country house. In one piece. That’d be great.

Even when she makes it on the train she’s afraid to fall asleep. What if she doesn’t wake up for her stop? Then she'd be tired and feeling very sorry for herself.

They told her to go. They, that are her brother and her sister-in-law. They told her to go to her boyfriend, make it right, maybe kick his arse for being mean, but then apologise, kiss and make up.

But she couldn’t in good conscious leave them just be. So, she made herself find a new cook to manage the kitchen. Maybe it’s a Christmas miracle, but after searching what seemed to be the entire island of Ireland, she found him in form of an online advertisement. Craig offered to prepare a Christmas meal for a family or group of friends in order to celebrate Christmas with them. Well. Family and group of friends almost fits for the bed and breakfast. A very large family and group of friends at least.

If this was a Hallmark movie, she'd be in love with the new, somewhat lonely cook now and make him stay to work for her forever. But it’s not a cheesy movie, so instead Dev’s overtired and on the way to her boyfriend. Which, ultimately, is better.

* * *

“Tom, could you get the door?”

It’s very hard not to roll his eyes. It’s his house. Of course he ‘could get the door’. He’s probably single now, but neither deaf nor unable to walk. He’s just preferred not to move. All day. Merry Christmas to him.

But his mum’s second shout of getting that door has him going. It’s only in the hallway that he asks himself, why there could be someone at his door. Sure, he has neighbours but they’re not so close that they just randomly come over on Christmas day to... yeah, to what? Bring Christmas pudding? And Tom swears to god, if the neighbours are at the door to complain about children – now with their parents – run around in the garden, making some noise, he going to kill someone. He’s just in the right mood.

Then he opens the door and almost closes it right after. Because he’s finally gone mad. He’s made it. Dev said she couldn’t come and celebrate Christmas with him and his family. And yet, someone who looks exactly like her is standing at his door.

He checks her over. If maybe it’s a brain tumour he at least wants to enjoy the images it creates. Her suitcase is next to her feet which are clad in her favourite and well trusted ankle boots. She’s wearing skinny jeans, a violet parka, a green scarf and a fitting beanie under which Tom can see her brown hair curling. She’s a bit pale – but beautiful – though, and the bags under her eyes are almost as big as the bag that’s slung over her right shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” he asks and then winces along with Dev. He didn’t want to voice it like that. Really. Instead, he wants to hug her, hold her in his arms, and never let go. Never again.

So, he does.

Dev only has enough time to drop her bag and prepare herself for impact, and then Tom pulls her close, cradling her in his arms.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he mumbles into her neck, inhaling the scent of roses, peach, and some fragrance Tom can’t place except for the knowledge it’s smelling like her. “I’m so sorry I said those things to you. I don’t want this to be over. Not over something like this.”

“’m sorry,” he hears her mumble against his shoulder. “I should have made it immediately. Not cancel at all.”

“It's okay. You’re here now. Thank you for being here.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And as Dev looks up and meets his eyes, and when then their lips finally meet as well, Tom knows that this must be his favourite Christmas ever. Maybe, just maybe, he thinks with the last two brain cells this kiss is leaving him with, she’ll also except the key to his house as a Christmas gift – as he’s planned from the beginning.


End file.
